


when i see you again

by TheWolfWithinMe



Category: Red Dead Redemption, Red Dead Redemption (Video Games), Red Dead Redemption 2
Genre: M/M, Mostly just sadness with a tad of fluff, Set during chapter 6, angst and pain, probably won’t have a happy ending
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-21
Updated: 2019-09-25
Packaged: 2020-10-25 01:35:40
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 2,499
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20715932
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheWolfWithinMe/pseuds/TheWolfWithinMe
Summary: Set during chapter six.The camp is thoroughly divided and Arthur is dying. He’s already lost Hosea, Dutch continues edging closer to insanity, and then there’s the question of Javier.They went from lovers to strangers to frenemies, both on separate sides of the same team.Can they reconcile before it’s too late? Or are they just another lost cause in the Van Der Linde gang?





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I was reading really cute Arthur/Javier fics and it made me want to write an angsty one.
> 
> Sorry, I like pain :)
> 
> Enjoy.

Arthur’s cough echoed around the camp.

Raw and aggressive.

A mouthful of blood was spat onto the ground beside his cot.

He could feel the other’s watching. Judging. Micah laughing. 

God, how did it all end up like this?

The gang was divided. Friends—his /family/—had died... Sean, Kieran, Hosea... Each name burned his throat. 

Now only a few remained and things were different. The feeling of belonging had thoroughly abandoned them all. Even Trelawny had left for good. If Arthur didn’t have John, Sadie or Charles then he would have probably given up by now. Would have let the TB win. 

Another harsh cough escaped, followed by more blood. 

He wasn’t afraid to die. No, the thought of being reunited with his son Isaac and the fallen gang members made him almost welcome it. 

But not yet.

Dragging a hand across his pale face, he wiped away any remaining traces of blood. He looked like shit and he knew it.

“Arthur?”

Javier’s voice caught him off guard. It was familiar and foreign all in the same breath. And it made Arthur’s heart hurt. Once upon a time, they used to be close. Hell, too close perhaps. Things had happened. Things which made being an Outlaw worth the rough nights, the lack of food...

But then the rift between he and Dutch began, and the camp members slowly started to choose their sides. Javier sided with Dutch. Arthur couldn’t blame him, not really. Dutch had taken Javier under his wing, fed him, kept him warm, safe. And Javier felt like he owed Dutch for that. 

But still, it stung. 

Arthur was the one who made Javier laugh, and who made him open up about his past. Javier taught Arthur how to play guitar and speak Spanish, which they both used to insult Micah.

But now, none of that mattered.

“Arthur?”

A warm hand touched his shoulder and he jerked out of his memories. 

“Yeah?”

He hated how they danced around each other. Their eyes showed the pain, the regret, and the silent longing but their postures remained stiff. Even now, Javier was stood at arms reach. Too damn far away.

“I brought you this, to help your cough.” He held out a small bundle of something wrapped in a black cloth. “Hosea taught me how to make it. Said it helped his cough, so...”

Javier was rambling, and Arthur could see the conflict in his eyes. He wanted to say more, Arthur wanted him to say more, but it never happened. 

Instead, he pressed the cloth into Arthur’s palm and skulked away again. 

Arthur didn’t even get a chance to thank him. 

Unwrapping the bundle curiously, he found both a mixture of herbs and a note. The herbs smelled fresh and inviting, but the paper was what really caught his eye.

“Meet me tonight at our old spot,  
the one with the view,  
We need to talk.

J.”

xox

“Going behind my back again, Arthur?”

Arthur had one foot in the stirrup and was just about to swing himself into the saddle when Dutch’s voice made him falter; the leader’s paranoia was as strong as ever. 

The old Dutch was dead.

And it fuckin’ hurt like Hell.

“I ne’er went behind y’back.” Arthur responded calmly. But it didn’t matter. Disbelief dominated Dutch’s features. He was too far gone.

And it was all Micah’s fault.

“No? Then why did you rescue John? I specifically told you not to.”

Climbing into the saddle, he let out a sigh. He and Dutch had had this conversation at least ten times since John’s return. 

“They were gonna hang him.”

“I had it under control.” Dutch growled, his fingers wrapping around the reins so that Arthur couldn’t escape.

Arthur simply stared at his leader—the one who taught him to survive, to read and embrace what life had to offer. The closest thing, aside from Hosea, he had to a father—with sadness.

“I don’t think you know what control even means anymore, Dutch. Maybe ask Micah for a lesson.”

It was a low blow, but it had the effect he was after. Dutch released the reins and stormed away without another word, leaving Arthur hurting. Both physically and emotionally.

He turned his horse around and kicked off, riding into the night. He needed to see Javier.


	2. Chapter 2

The night was clear and the ride... well, that was lonely. As his horse thundered down the dusty paths, kicking up debris in its wake, Arthur lost himself to his thoughts. They were just crossing into the Heartlands, the lush green grass and rolling hills giving him some major nostalgia. He tore past Emerald Ranch and felt his heart clench painfully. 

Hosea introduced him to this place, back when they stole the wagon. Both his and Arthur’s morale was high that night. They were off the freezing mountains and things finally appeared to be changing in their favour. 

God, he missed Hosea.

He would have known what to do about Dutch. 

A lump formed in his throat and Arthur struggled to breathe past it. Thinking about Hosea made his entire body seize up with sadness and regret. He forced himself onwards, leaving Emerald Ranch and the painful memories behind.

He wished that he could just... go back in time. Save Sean, Lenny, Hosea, Hell... even Kieran. But he was nothing more than a sick, dying man. 

Tears started spilling down his cheeks now, hot and heavy, before getting whisked away by the wind. He pushed his horse harder and made his way northwards up through the forest. 

Honestly, it felt like he was riding to his death. He knew Javier was going to break his heart again. Just like the night when they called it quits. Relationships between two guys were heavily frowned upon and the stress of keeping such a thing private quickly drove a wedge between them. 

But still...

He turned right at a crossroads and followed the deserted path. A full moon hung in the sky above him illuminating the way forward. The Heartlands were a pretty area, he couldn’t deny that. It sure beat the south and Shady Belle. And definitely the mountains.

But it was a bittersweet sort of feeling.

Finally he reached a clifftop, high enough to overlook the entire state. Boaz was grazing by a tree, so Javier was here already. Arthur slid off his own horse and watched as the Arabian trotted off to join his friend.

At least they were on good terms.

Stars twinkled up ahead, a whole sky full of them. If he wasn’t so nervous, he’d find the scene beautiful.

With some reluctance, Arthur smoothed down his waistcoat and slowly approached the figure stood at the cliff edge. 

Javier turned at the sound of boots crunching against grass... and smiled. It was a sad smile, but one nonetheless. 

“Arthur...”

“Javier. Le’s just get this over with, shall we? I don’t have much time left and would rather not spend it arguing.”

Javier’s smile fell slightly. Close up, he almost looked as shit as Arthur did. Stress within the camp had taken its toll on all of them.

“Arthur, I miss you.”

Well... he wasn’t expecting /that/. Maybe an ‘Arthur, you need to stop fucking up’ or ‘Arthur, you’re breaking Dutch’s heart’ but not this. 

“Excuse me?”

Javier took a small step forwards. He was shorter than Arthur, but just as intimidating when he wanted to be. Now however, he just looked lost. 

“The gang’s falling apart. Micah and Dutch are planning... something. Bill’s going crazy, everyone else is walking on eggshells. And I miss you.”

Running a hand across his face, Arthur couldn’t help but ask. “Aren’t y’and Micah best pals?”

Javier just gave him a look. “Aren’t you and John best pals? Bill thinks that you and he are... ya know... a thing.”

“What? Hell no! One, he has Abigail and a son. Two, no. And three, no.” Arthur chuckled to himself at that. He and John? No, they were simply brothers. 

“Oh... And Charles?”

“Just a really good /friend/.”

“Oh.”

Javier relaxed his posture and appeared a tad happier now. “Thank fuck, and to answer your question, no. Micah and I aren’t best friends. Dutch just wants us to work together on his plan.”

“Is his plan to go utterly insane? Because I think he’s actually succeeding with this one.”

“Arthur...”

“Sorry, sorry. I know y’still loyal to him.”

To a damn fault. 

“Of course I am, Arthur... but I didn’t bring you here to talk about Dutch.” He turned to face the cliff edge again, fingers entwined behind his back. “I know you’re dying.”

Anyone with eyes could see that Arthur was on his last legs. From the pale skin to the constant coughing. Even Micah put two and two together. 

“If y’just going to pity me, I’m heading back. Or to a bar.... Probably a bar.” 

Javier frowned, but Arthur didn’t see it. 

“I didn’t bring you here to pity you, Arthur. I... uh...”

“Spit it out, Escuella.”

“Arthur!” Both men turned towards the voice. Charles approached on Taima, looking thoroughly out of breath. He didn’t even dismantle, nor pay much attention to Javier. Much to the latter’s chagrin. 

“Arthur, we need you up on the Indian Reservation. It’s Rains Fall.”

Dammit. There was always something going on these days. 

Heaving a sigh, Arthur nodded. “Alright, I’m coming.”

He whistled for his horse and gave Javier an apologetic expression, but the other outlaw was busy glaring at Charles. 

“Can we—“

“Just go, Arthur, this is clearly more important.”

Javier called for Boaz. “I’m going back to camp — I’m sure Dutch is wondering where I’ve gone.”

And with that, he left. 

“I hope I wasn’t disturbing anything.” Charles muttered quietly.

xox

The ride up north was less lonely now. Arthur truly enjoyed having Charles by his side. He just wished that the other outlaw was five minutes later. 

“So...” Charles spoke up, his voice muffled against the wind.

“So...?”

“So... what’s going on with you and Javier?”

Arthur blinked. “What d’ya mean?”

“I know I don’t talk much, Arthur, but I see lots.” 

A painful silence followed his words and Arthur sincerely hoped that he had dropped the subject. 

“Like... I see how he looks at you in camp.” 

Maybe not.

“He looks at me like I’m a disloyal, disobedient letdown.” 

Charles laughed quietly. “Bill looks at you like that, but not Javier.” He slowed Taima down to a trot as they reached the reservation. “I think Javier’s torn on who to be loyal to. You or Dutch.” 

“He’ll always choose Dutch. The guy saved his life.” 

“Maybe.” Charles gave him a quick smile, as though he was hiding some important piece of information. “Maybe not.” 

But before Arthur could get him to elaborate, Rains Fall ran out and they both went into business mode.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This went really dark really fast (:

When Arthur returned to camp the following morning, he was disappointed — but not surprised — to see Javier sat huddled at a table with Micah. Both men had their heads together and were talking quietly. Micah kept glancing over, a stupid grin on his face. 

“He’s playing a game.” Charles muttered into Arthur’s ear, “Micah, I mean. I think he’s guessed that there’s something going on between you and Javier.”

The grin turned into a full on smirk, which promptly confirmed Charles’ words and he leaned even closer to the Mexican.

The little snake...

Before Arthur could even think about the consequences, he was stalking across the camp. He didn’t notice Javier moving away from Micah, or the disgust on his face. He just saw that damn smirk. 

“Cowpoke! How nice of you to vis—...” Micah’s words were abruptly cut off when Arthur grabbed a fistful of his shirt and dragged him upwards. Adrenaline and rage were giving him the strength he so desperately needed right now, and before either of them wore off — he socked Micah in the jaw. 

The sound of his fist making contact with Micah’s face was a satisfying one, and he could hear Charles laughing in the background. 

He paused, then punched the little rat again. And again, and again. Until his hand was covered in fresh blood. Which for once, wasn’t his. 

A whole crowd had gathered around them now, with John and Charles behind Arthur, and Joe and Cleet behind Micah. No one stopped him. But several others cheered. 

But as quickly as the strength arrived, it abandoned him just as fast and he could feel himself falling; his vision blurring as the TB made itself known again. A pair of arms wrapped around his middle before he hit the floor, strong enough to support him. 

He expected it to be Charles.

But it was Javier.

His grip on Arthur was a firm one, and it reminded the Outlaw of the olden days. When they would hold each other like nothing else in the world mattered. 

“What the fuck is going on?!”

Dutch had stormed out of the caves he was lurking in and beelined straight for the gang, pushing past Pearson and Miss Grimshaw. His dark eyes saw the blood on Arthur’s hand and Micah’s bruised face, and he quickly put two and two together. 

“Get out.” 

His words held no warmth. No fondness. They were cold and full of hatred. He took a step forward, now only inches away from Arthur’s face, and all but screamed. “GET OUT!”

Silence fell in the group. Micah was grinning and licking the blood from his lips. His henchmen just smirked. And Arthur struggled to stay conscious.

“If he’s leaving, so am I.” John said suddenly. 

“And me.” Added Sadie. 

“Me too.” That was Charles. 

Abigail, Uncle, Pearson and all of the women also stood behind Arthur. Even Trelawny was there. 

Dutch stared at them all with contempt, giving each individual a nasty glare before his gaze landed on Javier, who was still holding onto Arthur protectively. 

“And you?” He asked icily. 

“He’ll want to stay with his /boyfriend/.” Micah spat, voice full of venom. 

“Boyfriend?” Dutch’s expression was murderous now; his eyes glinting with insanity. “You owe your loyalty to me, not him. Don’t forget that without me, you would be NOTHING.”

Javier just stared back. Arthur could feel him trembling, and he wanted to say something, anything, to help the other. But words were a struggle right now. All he could do was grip onto Javier’s arm and squeeze it gently.

“I’m... I’m staying with Arthur and the others.” 

Dutch looked as though someone had just punched /him/ in the face. 

“He’s sick, can’t you see that? And you’re just throwing him out! Where’s /your/ loyalty?!” His voice grew stronger with each word. “If this is who you are now Dutch, then I don’t want to be a part of it anymore.”

“Is that so?” With a deranged smile on his lips that didn’t quite belong there, Dutch pulled out one of his guns, aimed it at Javier...

....and fired.


End file.
